Larry Correia - Monster Hunter Vendetta

"I'm aware of that, and Agent Franks will be reprimanded accordingly. He was not authorized to enter another universe or to attack an unknown entity. The Congressional Subcommittee has ruled it an act of self-defense, however, so Franks will not be terminated."

Did that mean fired or dismantled? "You know that's absolute bullshit, right?"

Myers, unfazed, continued. "Even more troubling is that it seems like you've been keeping secrets from me. I have evidence here that you have some sort of psychic powers and that somehow you are the only person in recorded history to have survived a zombie bite."

"That's impossible," I said with no inflection.

"Indeed," Myers said. "Because that would mean that your continued existence could prove to be an important national security issue." I did not respond. If Myers wanted to just make me go away it was certainly within his power. "But I'm really doubting the accuracy of this report," he said as he waved the paper.

"Why's that?"

"Because this same intel indicates that the Condition's Shadow Lord was really a man named Martin Hood, who died quite some time ago. See, I happened to know Martin Hood, we were actually close friends, and I would hate to see his good name slandered."

I nodded. "And it would also call into question the judgment of the interim head of the Monster Control Bureau if it turned out that one of his oldest friends was really the leader of an evil death cult." Myers was concerned about his association with Hood coming back to haunt him…

Unless…

Could Hood have also approached Myers about working together, like he had with Carlos? It was a definite possibility. They had been best friends. Had Myers known just what kind of craziness Hood had been dabbling in? Had he known about Hood's father's book? Had he known, but protected his friend anyway?

I had to know. "Can I see that report?"

Myers extended it to me and I reached out and touched his hand instead. It wasn't so difficult to use the ability this time. After all, the memory was just sitting there, floated to the top by the pressure of Agent Myers' buried guilt.

Ray Shackleford was furious. His face was turning a shade of red that was normally reserved for when he was chainsawing a monster in half. He shoved the chubby Hunter against the wall, enraged. "Damn it, Marty! What the hell were you thinking? I told you not to screw around with this stuff anymore!"

Ray was such a brute that Marty's feet dangled a few inches off the floor and the big man didn't even notice that he was holding him up. But the smaller Hunter was undaunted. "Don't you get it? I figured it out! I've learned the language of the book. I've read the entire Skia Thanatou! I can control the dead. There's no limit to what we can do now," Hood gasped, trying to breathe past the meaty hands clamped around his throat. The wall of Shackleford family portraits was at his back. The family estate was packed with Hunters but we had this room to ourselves.

"You were animating zombies, you idiot, and Carlos found out, and in the morning when Earl wakes up human, he's going to know too." Ray let go and Marty dropped, gasping. "I got you transferred so you would quit dinking around with the magic shit in the archives. You weren't supposed to sneak the evilest book down there with you!"

"It was my book to take," Marty snapped. "It belonged to my father, and his father before him. You didn't think it was such a bad idea when I used it back here and was making us millions in bounties!"

Ray rubbed his face in his hands as he stomped away. "What are we going to do? Does Carlos know anybody else helped with your research?"

"Of course not," Marty snapped. "You think I'm stupid? Now lower your voice, or the whole house will know. I'll handle this. I'll tell Earl that it was all me. I'll take the heat. What's he going to do? Kill me?" Marty snorted.

"Yes," Ray snapped. "My dad and grandpa are a lot of things, especially old-fashioned, but they've got principles. They won't tolerate a Hunter using dark magic. One of these days, I'll be in charge, and that'll change. We all know that this stuff can be harnessed for good, but until then, we were supposed to keep our mouths shut."

Marty's fat face opened in a wide grin. "Don't worry, mate. I'll handle this. If there's one thing I can do, it's keep a secret. Nobody ever has to know who helped me."

"Damn right," Ray snarled, poking him in the chest. "We're done tonight. In the morning, you'll come clean and beg Earl for forgiveness. You're going to take your lumps. Earl will probably fire you, but at least he won't eat you, and it beats all of us going to prison, right, Myers?"

"Agreed," I said, speaking up for the first time. I hated myself for ever getting involved. It had been stupid, playing with evil for the greater good, and my best friend had taken it too far. We had been fools.

But I did know how to keep a secret.

Only a second had passed. I was getting better at this. I studied Myers' face for a moment. He still looked like a community-college English professor, not like the interim leader of a top-secret government agency tasked with protecting the United States from all supernatural threats. He was an easy man to underestimate, but now I knew why he was so doggedly determined in his work. Myers was seeking atonement.

"It would probably ruin your career if it also turned out that your best friend was animating zombies and studying the darkest of mysteries while you guys were hanging out. Some of the good congressmen might even get the crazy idea that you were somehow involved," I said.

Myers smiled nervously. "Yes, no need for the Subcommittee to even worry about such preposterous allegations. I think that it would be for the best if this erroneous report never saw the light of day, wouldn't you?"

"Martin Hood died in 1986. Werewolf accident," I said.

"And Owen Zastava Pitt is just an average man, with no magical gifts or anything absurd like that." Myers nodded. "That seems fair enough." He neatly stacked all of the papers, put them all back into the folder, and fed the entire thing into an industrial shredder next to the desk. We both waited for it to quit grinding. "Now that‘s behind us, I do sincerely hope that we never have to work together again. In fact, I damn well better never see your name come across my desk, ever again. You should just stick with normal monsters. It seems like every time I get a case that's almost impossible to cover, it somehow involves you. No more world-altering events, time travel, portals to the Old Ones, or giant super trees. Is that understood?"

"Of course, Agent Myers." I stood. "I can show myself out."

We held the funeral services three days later. The dirty but necessary work had been done immediately, so this part was only for the living, not the dead. During the attack on the compound we had lost a team lead, Adam Williams, and three Newbies: Drew Foster, William Tanner, and John Newton. We had lost Sam Roger Haven under the boughs of the Tree, and we were also honoring the sacrifice of Carlos Alhambra.

Everyone had gathered.

There was a small cemetery in the forest outside the compound and the place was packed. The only Hunters who were buried here were the ones who requested to be. Most were cremated and then sent back to their families with some sort of fabricated cover story. It was sad, but it was how we had to operate. There was only one person actually being buried here today, and that was Sam, because his only family had been his fellow Hunters. The casket was closed, as we had already cleanly removed his head. It was something that we all had to do eventually.

We had set up a little podium in front of the hole in the ground. Milo Anderson had been tasked with saying a few words. The little man looked terribly uncomfortable in front of the crowd, glancing nervously about the entire time. He had dressed up in his best purple suit and had carefully braided his beard.